Game
by doomkiri
Summary: Isaak attempts to figure out what sort of 'game' is being played...IxD one-shot from Isaak's perspective. Rated M because I don't want to risk anything.


**Game**

**IxD One-shot. From Isaak's perspective.**

What does one advocate to do with this demon? A salacious little devil; as he walks one must add the serpentine demon-tail winding down his thigh. As he parades around the chaise lounge I swear he is sliding his hips to some kind of lascivious melody. This dance is excruciating to bear; with every step I see his muscles become taut, and then relax underneath the tight black uniform. As one leg brushes past the other, the audible friction between the material and his skin is unbearable.

Right now, Dietrich, you arch yourself over the table, looking for something or other. I can't help but notice how small your posterior is. How the muscles which run down from your buttocks tighten, then disappear down your boots. Naiad…you shouldn't be putting that erotic body in danger. Give yourself to me and I'll take you somewhere quiet and lonely, so that no other may see or feel you…

What is it he is doing now? One leg rising, it bends and the knee rests firmly on the table-top. What game does this nymph want, to be taunting a lusty old Methuselah such as me? Now he has his other knee upon the table, and swings his tiny butt down so he rests on the side of his thigh. What disrespect; he has his back turned towards me. One hand reaches forward, out the window, and reigns in a wild rose. How will I be played this time?

A pricking of your finger; tell me, is this how the roses have grown so bountiful this year? You give yourself over to their vampiric fangs, but to the thorns in my mouth, are left to go thirsty. You still have your back turned, delicious Ganymede. Tell me, before I lose sight of it all, what sort of game are you playing? I cannot tame that ephemeral blossom of your body, and to see you court harm unto yourself is unbearable. You are a fool for seducing me.

What does he do now? He has discarded his rose; the blood dripping off the thorn is staining some important paper most likely. I see now; that heavy black jacket slips off his back and lands with a dull crunch on the floor. Is there some kind of sultry heat in the air, one which even _he_ is liable to fall victim too? His next casualty is the black tie; curiously, it is thrown out the window to be eaten up by the summer night. I can see them now; little beads of perspiration glisten down his neck. But it isn't even that hot.

You have your shirt unbuttoned now. I wish I didn't have to look at the lines of your stomach; how your hips slope down underneath your belt. But don't stop it now. I have to see how it ends. You sweet little swindler. Now you're on your back; I can see your languid eyes now. Stop questioning me with your silence; stop trying to break my stoic face, fool. Do you want me to break you?

He unzips his boots and drops them carelessly on the floor. Soon to follow are his pants, leaving him there on the table clad only in his underwear and unbuttoned shirt. And all through this I sit as unchanging as a statue while this transient beauty aggravates lusts. I am boring him, and he slithers off the table to stand in front of where I sit. His underpants slip down pale legs, and he steps out of them. For a fleeting touch of modesty he has kept his shirt on; but I feel as if I am privy to something in which his soul is laid bare.

So, nymph, what happens now? Do I grope your hips, claw at your side and force you to scream my name into the night? I won't. This is your game. I want to see how you play me. I never knew the devil had such soft thighs. The way you press your manhood against me; the way you caress my head and bring it to your soft chest. How a hand reaches under my chin, separates the lips from each other. How sweet your tongue tastes, like the forbidden Eden fruit. I suppose, just tonight, I will have to hurt you…

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**A bi-polar Isaak? I don't know why I made him refer to Dietrich as 'you' for every alternate paragraph.**

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End file.
